Jeyne
by Delay88
Summary: Jeyne has been married for six long, childless years, and her father-in-law is losing patience. If she doesn't produce an heir soon, she's going to end up a septa, or worse, a silent sister. Good thing the new maester sent by the Citadel is open to alternative fertility treatments.
1. Chapter 1

The Rookery sat on top of the Rock, separated from the main tower of the old Ringfort by a narrow bridge. Jeyne paused to recover her breath, her hands clutching the small bundle of cloth she had brought. It was a steep climb all the way to the top and an unsteady walk across the bridge to the maester's study.

On a clear day, she could see all the way to Lannisport, but today, the world below was covered in layers of thick gray clouds, swallowing the sound of the waves and the cries of the gulls. All she could see were the tower ahead of her and the rope she held on to as she made her way across.

Still, Jeyne was glad whenever she had an excuse to come up here. Down in her own chambers, the weight of Casterly Rock always seemed to suffocate her. Up here, the air was fresh, and the sound of wind rustling through the trees in the small courtyard below reminded her of her childhood. When she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was home.

After six years at the Rock, she missed the green rolling hills surrounding Ashemark more than she could say. Sometimes she wondered if Lord Gerold would send her back to her father's seat. But that was no more than wishful thinking, she knew. _What would my parents do with me? A barren woman, useless as nipples on a breastplate, no more than a cruel jape from the gods._

She looked down at the thick shrouds of fog concealing the sharp rocks below. On some days, she thought of ending it all: taking one wrong step, falling through the clouds and letting herself become one with the waves crashing against the stone half a mile below.

 _I'd do them all a favor. Tytos would be able to marry again without the trouble of having to set me aside._ Half the houses in the Westerlands were ready to send their daughters to Casterly Rock, and the other half already had. She often asked herself which of her ladies-in-waiting would be the lucky one to replace her.

 _None, if it were up to Tytos_. Her husband had shown more courage than most men in defending her, displaying an uncharacteristic stubbornness for a man so eager to please his elders. But if rumor could be believed Lord Gerold had lost patience with his son and sent a raven to the High Septon at last, asking for his blessing to annul the marriage. _Tytos won't be able to defy his father much longer._

A fire was burning in the Rookery. The maester was writing a letter, raising his head as she entered. "Lady Jeyne." He did not seem surprised to see her.

 _He's been expecting me_ , Jeyne thought. _Even in Oldtown they know the wife to the future lord of Casterly Rock is still without child._

The man the Citadel had sent was young, not much older than herself, perhaps in his mid-twenties, with flaxen hair and a close-cropped beard. Instead of the usual maester's robe of brown roughspun, he wore a tunic made of fine linen and a fur-lined half-cape that covered most of the heavy chain around his neck.

"My husband sent me-" Jeyne began. It was a lie, but she no longer cared.

The maester waved a hand at her. "No need to explain. The young lord has already told me of your difficulties. I was going to see you in your own chambers to spare you the trouble of coming all the way up here." He rose from his chair. Jeyne had briefly seen him the day he'd arrived from Oldtown. He'd seemed frightened of Lord Gerold, trembling and shaking on his knees as he kissed his new lord's hand, but up here in his own study, he looked taller, more confident. "How long since your last moon blood, my lady?"

"A fortnight." She remembered the morning the blood had come, the wetness between her legs, the smell, the sense of despair after another month of hope. She'd burned her smallclothes in the hearth, but her handmaid had seen her and told Lord Gerold. "Perhaps my womb has moved up again. Maester Gormond always said my womb had a habit to wander, and that was why I couldn't- why I can't- he tried to help me keep it in the right place, but-"

The maester laced his fingers together, studying her. His eyes were a watery green, the color of the Sunset Sea on a clear, windy day. "I must admit that during my years at the Citadel, I have never seen a case of a wandering womb. I might even say I've become convinced a woman's womb rarely wanders at all." He stopped when he noticed the look in her eyes. "I can come find you in your own bedchamber and take another look later, my lady. It'll be more comfortable than here."

She shook her head. "That's not why I'm here. I've been wondering if there is anything else you can give me. Maester Gormond was a good man, but he was old. Perhaps there were things he did not know, new treatments, new methods-"

"What _have_ you tried?"

 _Everything._ The cooks at the Rock spiced her food with cloves, deer horn and orange peel to drive out the dampness that prevented her body from conceiving. She'd drunk mare's blood, and Tytos had even asked the cooks to feed her the afterbirth of a lioness that had cast litter of five strong cubs. The bloody tissue had made her gag. But she was willing to do whatever it took.

"Herbs and spices," she said. "Blood from the womb of more fertile creatures than myself. And prayer." _Lots and lots of prayer._ Her knees were wound from the hours and days she had spent in the sept, praying to the Mother. She'd gone so far as to beg the Stranger to help her, offering him her own life if only he would give her a son. But in the end, the Stranger was just as indifferent to her plight as the other gods, and her belly remained flat.

"Ah. Spices and _prayer._ " The way he said the word _praye_ r told her everything she needed to know.

 _Now or never._ She pulled out the small bundle of cloth, opening it. The mass inside was the size of her fist, raw and bloody, with a large head and tiny hands and feet. The smell of fresh meat made the ravens squawk and jump up and down in their cages.

Jeyne had expected the man to recoil at the sight, but he looked at it almost curiously, a hint of a smile on his face. "Not yours, I'd assume?"

"My handmaiden's. She did not want it." It was only half a lie, and the girl was just as dead now as her unborn child. "The woods witch who cut it out told me-"

"She told you it would make you fertile," the maester interrupted her. "Aye. She told you to cut out its heart and consume it raw, to cook the rest and eat it over the course of seven days and seven nights." He took the bloody cloth from her hands, studying the small, mangled body before tearing the soft flesh apart with his hands and feeding it to his ravens. "The woods witch lied. This will make you no more fertile than drinking the blood of a mare in heat or praying to the Father to forgive you your sins, child."

Jeyne watched as the birds gobbled down her last hope, unable to move or speak. _Lord Gerold will force me to become a septa_ , was all she could think. _No. He will send me to the Silent Sisters as punishment for all the trouble I've given him and his family._

"There is another possibility," the maester said softly, wiping the blood off his hands after the ravens had finished their meal. "Has it ever occurred to you that the problem lies not with you but with your lord husband?"


	2. Chapter 2

Jeyne stared at the man standing in front of her, watching her through his squinty little eyes. "My husband? But he can- He-he has no trouble to-" She couldn't think of a good way to put this.

"Aye, he has no trouble spilling his seed inside of you," the maester helped her out. "But his seed itself may be unsuitable."

She straightened her shoulders. "That is unheard of."

The man snickered softly. "Outside of Oldtown, it is unheard of because people do not _like_ to hear it, but at the Citadel, it is common knowledge that in some cases, the man is to blame when a woman cannot conceive. Tell me, does your lord husband have any natural children?"

"Tytos? No. He would not-" She stopped herself. _Don't be a fool, Jeyne. Just because he refused Ellyn does not mean he's never been with another woman._ "None that I know of."

The maester nodded. "Good. Good. I've made some inquiries myself, and people seem to agree. Your husband strikes me as the kind of man who would make sure all his children are well-cared for. If nobody knows of any bastards he's fathered, perhaps he does not have any."

"That proves nothing." Jeyne studied the man. _He's put some thought into this, asking around._ It was a bold move. He did not strike her as the kind of man to take such risks, but looks could be deceiving. "Let's say the fault does lie with Tytos... Even if it is true, even if he believes me, his father never will. He... he's losing patience...He will-" She turned her head. "It has been _six_ years since I wed his son."

"Lord Gerold's health is failing him, and he wants the matter of succession settled before he passes," the maester said calmly. "He will force Tytos to set you aside as soon as he can, no doubt. Your husband is a gentle man, perhaps too gentle. He won't be able to stand up to his father for much longer. I could try to treat him, but I'm afraid you're right, Lord Gerold wouldn't take kindly to the suggestion his own blood may be to blame." He paused. "It is a curse from the gods, they say, and no lord likes to hear his house is cursed. Much less with what they already say of him."

 _A brother and a niece dead, followed by a childless marriage. A curse from the gods for the gravest of all sins._ People had whispered about it for years. Of course, the Lady Alysanne must have been at fault, for Gerold the Golden had fathered four sons on his second wife. _Still, first he remained without child, and now his son and heir. A generational curse from the gods they will call it. The kinslayer is accursed in the eyes of god and men, they will say._ "Lord Gerold will have your tongue if you tell anyone his son is to blame."

"This is where you are wrong, Lady Jeyne." The maester took a step towards the hearth to add a log of wood to the fire. "He will have my _head_. There is much in your goodfather that I admire. He is a strong man, and a capable ruler, much more so than any of the Targaryens will ever be. But the rumors surrounding his brother's death have been eating away at him over the decades. They have turned him into a smaller man than he used to be. He would sooner kill the messenger than face the truth."

 _Don't tell him then_ , Jeyne wanted to say. _Just give Tytos whatever it is he needs to get me with child_. But even if her husband agreed to keep this secret from his sire, sooner or later, Lord Gerold would find out about it. He always did. "Tell me, what would Tytos have to do?"

"I've read of a man who was cured through fasting, and another who consumed the testicles of an aurochs. There are texts that claim a man must drink the blood of a cockatrice – or its seed, according to another source." The maester shrugged. "The truth is, we know little and less of what it takes. At the Citadel, even the Archmaesters are beginning to recognize that oftentimes, nothing can be done at all when a couple is unable to conceive. It's not a very popular opinion with the lords we serve, but so are most truths, wouldn't you agree?"

His words were like a stab in the gut. _You are telling me there is no hope. A few more moons, and Tytos will be forced to set me aside, and there is nothing I can do except pray I won't be wed to the Stranger._ "Thank you for your honesty."

"There may be another way. Your _husband_ may not be able to get you with child. But as long as _your womb_ is fertile, you can still save yourself."

Jeyne's face turned pale. "You should not say such things. If Tytos learns of this... gods forbid, if Lord Gerold were ever to hear such talk-"

"But he won't hear of it, will he? Who would tell him? _You_?"

"The walls of Casterly Rock have ears."

"Aye, they do, but not up here. Lord Gerold offered me a space near his own quarters, warm and comfortable, yet generous enough to accommodate a king. There are good reasons why I chose the highest tower of Casterly Rock instead."

"I would rather live my life as a Silent Sister than betray my husband."

The maester turned around, slowly walking towards the small window of his study. "Your husband loves you madly. It would break his heart to have to set you aside. You could spare him the pain." His voice was calm, reassuring. _No, manipulative_ , Jeyne thought. _He's trying to manipulate me._ He was good at it, too. His act of subservience even had Lord Gerold fooled.

"What do you think the Golden Lion will do if the High Septon tells him Tytos cannot divorce you?" He continued. "The Faith is loathe to give its blessing without good cause, and I fear it is common knowledge that your marriage _has_ been consummated."

 _So you're threatening me now_? "The Father will judge him justly for whatever he chooses to do in that case, I suppose," Jeyne said icily. _He's right though. If the Faith does not allow Tytos to set me aside, Gerold will have me killed_. "Pray excuse me. I must be on my way."

The maester nodded. "Very well then. Could I ask you a favor though?" He picked up a small scroll from his desk. "A raven came from Tarbeck Hall with a message for Lord Gerold. Could you bring it to him when you go back down?"

Jeyne took a look at the sealed letter in his hand. "Fine, yes, I'll take it with me."


	3. Chapter 3

Jeyne looked down at the thick soup of fog beneath the bridge, her hands shaking as she read the finely curved letters on the role of paper again and again, as if that could somehow change the words. _This is a punishment from the gods_ , she thought. _They do not forget... And I did the_ one _thing they do not forgive._

The _War of the Wombs_ Lord Toad had named it, and Jeyne had thought herself the winner after Lady Ellyn was wed to old Lord Walderan Tarbeck. _She will return to Casterly Rock as soon as the laws of mourning allow. I will need to deal with her again._ Only now that Jeyne was still without child six years into her marriage, there was no telling whose side Lord Gerold would take _this_ time.

The maester did not seem surprised to see her when she returned to the Rookery, the letter in her hand. "That note was meant for your good-father's eyes alone," he said calmly. "Even _I_ did not dare open it. How am I to explain to Lord Gerold that the seal is broken?"

"Burn it." Jeyne looked him straight in the eye. "Messages get lost. The raven could have been injured or shot down for all he knows."

"I suppose you're right." The maester held out his hand. "But tell me, what news from Tarbeck Hall that have you looking so pale, my lady?"

Reluctantly, Jeyne handed him the letter, watching his face closely as he read it.

"This comes as no surprise. Lord Walderan was old, and at the Citadel, we have long heard rumors that his health was quite fragile." The maester ripped the small scroll in half and threw it into the flames. "His widow is young and eager to re-marry. She will write to Casterly Rock again. I suppose it makes no matter if his lordship learns of Lord Walderan's death now or in a moon's turn."

"I suppose not," Jeyne said stiffly.

The young maester placed a hand on her shoulder as if to reassure her. "I understand you mislike that woman, but you need not worry about her. Lord Gerold would never allow his son to marry a woman twice wed..." He paused. "Though I will admit she's proven herself to be fertile... and House Lannisters needs to make peace with the Red Lion... Lord Robert has never forgiven his liege for marrying his only daughter off to an old man with heirs of his own... and if Ellyn does _not_ conceive they can always say the gods cannot abide a woman who is filled with lust and envy. The men at court mistrust her more than Gerold."

 _He's toying with my fears_ , Jeyne thought. _But what if he's right? Gerold is running out of time. He_ could _force Tytos to marry Ellyn_. The thought was more than she could bear.

"Think about what I told you," the maester said. "If you are not at fault, you can still save yourself. But I must caution that time is of the essence. The sooner you act, the better. I can _help_ you."

Chills crept up her spine. The mere thought of what he was suggesting was revolting. "What if I _am_ at fault?" She asked as calmly as she could. "What if it _is_ me? What if I am cursed?"

"Why, did you slay your own kin like Gerold did?" The maester seemed almost amused by the thought.

 _I murdered the heir to Casterly Rock in his mother's womb_. Nobody had believed Ellyn when she claimed she was with Tion's child. Only Jeyne had recognized the signs, had witnessed her morning sickness and noticed the subtle changes to her body. _That child was my kin by marriage._

The maester shrugged. "Whatever it is you did, you need not worry about the gods, Lady Jeyne. They don't care half as much about our lives as the septons would have us believe. They do not answer our prayers, so why would they punish our sins?"

Jeyne looked at his light golden hair and his green eyes. He could pass for a Lannister. _What are the gods going to do?_ She thought bitterly. _Turn me barren to punish me?_ "It is not the _gods_ I worry about," she said. "But what you suggest... there is a risk... if anyone suspects..."

"They will send you to the Silent Sisters to cover up the stain on their honor, and geld the poor man who'd shared a bed with you, or worse." He looked at her. "No doubt you will claim you were taken against your will, and I will not blame you."

She ignored that. "Lord Gerold will want us both dead. Tytos will beg his father for my life, but he will not beg for yours. And any child I conceive will be Tytos's, not yours. Why take the risk? There is nothing for you to gain."

"Must a man always gain something?" His hand was back on her shoulder, squeezing her lightly. "You were wed to a third son. Your house is neither very rich nor very powerful. When Lady Ellyn sought to take your place, every man, woman and child expected you to lose. And yet you prevailed. Only the gods know what you did to win that war, but you are _strong_. You deserve to be the Lady of the Rock."

 _Ah, yes_. Jeyne thought. _You're acting out of the goodness of your heart, of course._ She sighed. "Just answer me one question. Which house are you from?"


	4. Chapter 4

Jeyne's eyes roamed over the windowless bedchamber, its low ceilings, the gray walls, the rutted stone floor. _No ears_ , she thought, _and no eyes. No one will ever know what we did._ But that was little comfort. _What_ we _did..._ It was a cruel little word, forever binding her to a stranger.

She glanced at the man lying so awkwardly close to her on the narrow bed. "I am neither a Reyne nor one of their bannermen," he had told her when she had asked for his family name. "I am not trying to trick you or to seal your fate. That's all that needs concern you, my lady."

Reyne or not, all she wanted was for him to disappear. _If he were gone, there would be no 'us'. As long as I'm the only one to know, it's almost as if this never happened._ But the _gods_ knew. Nothing could undo what she had done.

There was a hint of a smile on his face. _Triumph_. Jeyne thought. _That's the look of a man who has won a great prize._ Just knowing that his seed was inside of her turned her stomach. In the beginning, he had whispered as if to soothe her. Eventually, his words had turned to heavy breathing and soft groans.

She had kept her eyes closed throughout.

The maester rose and started dressing himself as if nothing had ever happened. "I've calculated the days, and you should be at your most fertile," he told her. "But if not... they won't suspect you for coming up here, and when you give birth, they will be too relieved to question the why and the how."

The words were meant to comfort her, but all they did was send chills down her spine. _At my most fertile... How long has he been watching me?_

"Tytos loves you," he continued. "You did this for him as well. It would break his heart to have to set you aside."

Hearing her husband's name out of his mouth felt like a punch knocking the air out of her lungs. _I need to leave._ Jeyne grabbed her undergown and quickly slipped it over her head. "I cannot be here. This was-"

" _Stay._ " The maester pushed her back down, gently but firmly. "It is best if the seed remains inside of you for as long as possible." His icy hand slid underneath the loose tunic, rubbing her belly in circular motions. "You may regret this now, but all will be well as soon as you are with child."

Jeyne wanted to push him away, but all the strength had left her. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Ah, Jeyne," the maester said softly as he continued to knead her stomach. "I'm only trying to help, yet you still believe I wish to hurt you."

She took a deep breath, finally managing to sit up on the bed. "You say you are no Reyne, and that's all very well, but how can I trust you if I don't know who you are and what you want?"

He pulled his hand away, smiling as he turned around to fetch her gown. "I _told_ you I have no house. I only serve the realm, my lady. Lannister, Reyne, Marbrand... your rivalries are as inconsequential to me as two peasants squabbling over a piece of land."

"Yes, yes, you put aside your old allegiances when you swore your maester's oath and joined the Order, you need not tell me that again."

He helped her into her dress and began lacing it up in the back . "If you want me to, I can tell you a secret, but I have to warn you, it is not one you will like to hear. Perhaps you had best sit down again."

 _I can bear to hear the truth standing, she wanted to tell him_ , but it was at that moment that she _understood_. Bastards were named Snow in the North, Sand in the South, and Hill in the West, but this man was born lower than any of them. "It is as you claimed," she said, her voice flat. "You have no house."

"Aye." His smile widened. "I was born in Flea Bottom, not a copper to my name. I never knew my father. My mother died of a pox when I was no older than five. That was during the reign of King Aerys. He was a weak king, just like Aegon is today. I grew up in King's Landing, forced to watch him, always knowing _I_ could have been a better ruler."

"You think highly of yourself for someone so... baseborn." _Lower even than a Hill, Mother have mercy_. The wetness between her legs suddenly felt like poison spreading inside of her. All she wanted to do was clean it out.

"Perhaps." He shrugged. "But I forged my chain in less than three years where the sons of kings took ten. The Faith claims the Seven have chosen the Targaryens to rule. The truth is, if the gods gave a fig, why would they force better, abler men to watch the dragon lords run the realm to ruin? The Archmaesters at the Citadel understand they are no more than an open sore on the Seven Kingdoms, allowing the realm to fester."

Jeyne exhaled sharply. "Such talk is treason."

"It is, so long as the dragons still sit the throne. But their time is over, and the realm will be better off for it when they are gone. You are afraid to say it, but you know it, too. Their blood is weak from years of interbreeding. It is time for _stronger_ men to rule."

"You have lost your mind. I will not listen to such madness!" Jeyne pushed past him through the door that led back into the Rookery. "You would do well not to let Lord Gerold hear such talk, or he will take the head off your shoulders."

"You asked me what I had to gain."

She stopped.

"I've come far, and I mean to go further. But I am limited by my blood. The Citadel is the only road open to men such as myself. My son will not be bound by such constraints. He will rule. Who knows, if the great lords finally see the Targaryens for what they are... The Lannisters used to be kings in their own right... Who says they cannot be again?"

 _Lann the Clever_ , Jeyne thought. _Lann the Clever reborn_. "They won't be kings," she said softly. "They won't even be lords if you have your way."

"How do you mean?" There was a sudden curiosity in his voice.

"Lann the Clever... You know his story... no more than a lowly trickster, a nobody, and yet he stole the castle from the Casterlys using nothing but his wit and his tongue. You are just like him. If you succeed, the heir to Casterly Rock will not have a drop of Lannister blood in his veins, and neither will his children and his children's children. You've tricked the lions out of their castle, and they will never even know... Pycelle the Clever!"

The maester walked past her and began rummaging through his shelves. "It's a flattering comparison," he said. "But the Lannister _name_ remains. And if the _blood_ concerns you, marry my child to a true-born lion. Your husband's family is large enough, surely you will find a suitable match. It is all up to you." He placed a small leather pouch filled with crumpled leaves in her hand. "Here. Take this with you when you go back down."

Jeyne stared at it. "What is that?"

"Moon tea," he said. "The choice is yours."

* * *

Notes:

Yes, of course there are other explanations for Pycelle's extreme dedication to Tywin (he may have been a member of House Lannister himself) and for the fact that Jeyne and Tytos did not have their first child until seven years into their marriage (Jeyne may have been a child bride). But this explanation is more fun. And there _is_ this nice little quote:

 _Those who beheld these proud young lions on the battlefield might rightly wonder how such could ever have sprung from the loins of the quivering fool beneath the Rock._

\- Pycelle, _Observations Upon the Recent Blood-Letting on the Stepstone_ s


End file.
